


A Matter of Life and Death

by callay



Category: Penny Dreadful (TV)
Genre: First Kiss, First Time, Fuck Or Die, Kinda, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-08
Updated: 2014-09-08
Packaged: 2018-02-16 16:21:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2276415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/callay/pseuds/callay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“At this point we know very little about this… witch, or whatever she may be,” says Sir Malcolm. “But she appears to only attack virgins.”</p>
<p>At his words, all eyes turn towards Victor.</p>
<p>(Ethan helps save Victor from an untimely death, and maybe helps him learn something about himself in the process.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Matter of Life and Death

**Author's Note:**

> Warning for Victor having issues with sex and Ethan not being super sensitive about them.
> 
> Infinite thanks and many cookies to [knucklewhite](http://www.archiveofourown.org/users/knucklewhite/) for her advice and support! <3

“At this point we know very little about this… witch, or whatever she may be,” says Sir Malcolm. “But she appears to only attack virgins.”

At his words, all eyes turn towards Victor: Malcolm, frowning slightly; Miss Ives, glancing away, a small smirk on her face; and Ethan, looking at him with eyebrows raised.

Victor feels a flush suddenly blooming on his face. He jerks to his feet. “I suppose it’s best if I sit this one out, then,” he says, and leaves, ignoring Sir Malcolm’s voice calling after him. 

  


***

  


Later, there’s a knock on his door. Victor’s not surprised to see Ethan there. He was certain they would send an emissary sooner or later.

“Evening, doc.”

“Come in, Mr. Chandler,” Victor says tightly.

Ethan enters, but doesn’t sit down, just turns to face Victor. “About the witch. We’re going to need your help.”

“Well, apparently I’m not cut out for this particular situation.”

“Are you forgetting that the witch, or whatever the fuck she actually is, already saw all of us – you included – last night?” says Ethan. “The victims were found dead in their beds! That could be you, whether you help us or not!”

He’s right. “Fine,” says Victor. “I’ll do whatever Sir Malcolm needs tomorrow.”

“And tonight?”

“What about tonight? Surely there’s no new victim to examine yet.”

“Are you going to do anything about your little problem?”

Victor stiffens. “No. And there is no _problem_.” He doesn’t relish the thought of having his blood drained by a witch, but he’s faced greater dangers since making Sir Malcolm’s acquaintance.

“No problem?” repeats Ethan in disbelief. “This is a matter of life and death, and you’re not even willing to have sex _once_? What’s wrong with you?”

The sentence hits Victor like a blow. _What’s wrong with you_. Face flushing, he turns away.

Ethan grabs his arm. “Hey, I’m sorry. That’s not what I meant.”

“What did you mean?” asks Victor, not looking back at Ethan.

“I just… I don’t get it. Is it really that bad?”

_I’m simply not interested_ , Victor wants to say.

Except. Except for the fact that Ethan’s hand is on his arm, and Victor can’t stop thinking about how it feels, warm and strong. Can’t shut down the part of him that wonders what it would feel like under his shirt, on his bare skin, both of Ethan’s hands on him, Ethan –

He can ignore that, which he does, but he can’t lie about it.

“Sexual intercourse is messy,” he says seriously, turning to look at Ethan. “It’s what beasts do. We’re humans, we should be above things like that.”

Ethan looks skeptical. “And what you do, all that blood and gore, that’s not messy?”

“It is, but that’s… necessary,” says Victor stubbornly. “There’s no _point_ to intercourse besides procreation, and I’m not interested in that.” The creation of life anew from death, yes. The creation of life in the completely unpredictable, frequently cruel way of nature, not at all.

“Oh, there’s a point to intercourse,” says Ethan, raising his eyebrows. “Do you not – touch yourself?”

Victor swallows, looks down. “When I was a boy,” he says. “But I find it much too… distracting.”

It’s distracting him even now, the remembered feeling of it. Waves of pleasure from nothing more than his own hand. Victor twitches and balls his hands into fists.

“You ever think a little distraction might be good every now and then?” says Ethan.

Victor doesn’t say anything, just shrugs, stepping away from Ethan’s hand on his shoulder.

Ethan lets his hand fall back to his side, frowning. “Look, normally I’d say to suit yourself. But if you’d rather _die_ than have sex, then I think you’re a fucking idiot.”

Victor looks up angrily. “Well, Mr. Chandler, unless you’re offering, then it's irrelevant whether I _want_ to have intercourse or not, so perhaps you could leave me alone –“

Ethan blinks at him. “Unless I’m offering?”

Victor’s mouth goes dry as his mind catches up to his words. “I… I didn’t –“

Ethan is still staring at him, brow furrowed. “I’ll do it if you want,” he says slowly.

Victor’s heart is pounding so loudly it echoes in his ears. “Why?” he asks faintly.

Ethan’s lips curl into a grin. “I’d hate for you to die just because you’re too much of a prude to visit a whore.”

And that’s a little easier to process, to be offended by. Victor flushes and starts angrily, “Hey, I’m not –“

“And,” continues Ethan over him, “you’re pretty cute when you blush.”

Victor doesn’t have a response to that other than to feel his face heat even more. He doesn’t know what to think, what to do. Part of him is already imagining it – Ethan naked, lying against him, chest broad and warm, touching him – and the rest of him is pushing that image away as hard as it can.

“Well, doctor?” asks Ethan lightly, taking a step closer.

Victor swallows and backs up. “What, er, what would be involved?”

Ethan raises his eyebrows. “Well, I’d hate to go through all of this and have the witch still count you as a virgin. The best course of action is probably for me to fuck you.”

Victor can only stare at him, eyes wide.

“You, ah, know how that works?” asks Ethan.

“Yes! I’m a doctor!” says Victor, stung.

“Well, _doctor_ , I think it’s our best option. I’ll make it fast, and you don’t even have to do anything. It won’t hurt, I promise.”

Victor closes his eyes and forces himself to think about it. What it would feel like to have Ethan inside him. He can’t really imagine it, isn’t certain that it would feel good - but somehow the thought sends a thrill through his veins anyway, blood buzzing at the thought of a surrender like that.

“All right,” he says hoarsely, and hears a sharp breath from Ethan.

“Okay, fuck, good,” says Ethan, taking an eager step closer. “Just tell me if you want to stop, all right?”

Victor nods, pulse pounding. He looks up at Ethan, now directly in front of him. “What should I do?” he asks, voice coming out faint.

“Do you mind if I kiss you?” asks Ethan.

And Victor shakes his head, forcing himself to stand his ground, meet Ethan’s gaze. Ethan’s eyes are gentle, but there’s a predatory edge to his smile as he takes Victor’s face in his hands.

Then Victor closes his eyes because Ethan’s leaning in and pressing his lips to Victor’s.

Victor’s first impression is of warmth and pressure, the brush of Ethan’s mustache against his skin. And his heart’s skittering at the thought of this, but the reality doesn’t seem as momentous as he had expected –

And then Ethan tilts his head and pushes his tongue into Victor’s mouth. Victor’s tongue instinctively comes up to meet the intrusion, and Ethan’s tongue is strong against his, warm and solid and wet and _perfect_. Ethan curls his tongue against Victor’s and they tangle together, messy and elegant all at once. The sensation spreads through Victor’s body, electrifying in a way he’s never felt before, a whole-body thrill just from the movement of their mouths together.

And Ethan is holding his head tight and not stopping, sucking lightly to pull Victor’s tongue towards him and then circling it with his own. The slippery pressure of them against each other feels too good, and Victor can’t think, can only feel. But then he can feel his cock hardening in his pants and he jerks away from Ethan, alarmed.

“What’s wrong?” asks Ethan.

“Let’s just get on with it,” says Victor quickly.

“Suit yourself,” says Ethan, eyebrows raised. “Well, get naked, doc.”

Victor turns away – Ethan chuckles at that, but doesn’t say anything – and starts to undress. His heart is still pounding, lips tingling with Ethan’s kiss, the taste of Ethan’s tongue lingering in his mouth. He’s still hard, very hard, and when he pushes down his pants he can’t resist a single stroke, one long pull from the base of his cock to the tip, gasping at the pulse of pleasure –

“Damn, doctor,” says Ethan from right next to him. Victor jumps, heart skipping a beat, and quickly moves his hand. Ethan’s behind him, looking over his shoulder, and he leans in to put his chin on Victor’s shoulder, chest pressing against the top of Victor’s back.

Victor can’t help thrilling at Ethan’s touch, the solid warmth of his body. And then Ethan’s hands settle on Victor’s hips, squeeze once, before sliding in over Victor’s stomach. The roughness of Ethan’s hands feels good, and Victor shivers as they circle slowly over his abdomen, then slip lower –

“Stop,” gasps Victor.

Ethan does, moving his hands to rest gently on Victor’s hips again. “Why?”

Now that Ethan has stopped, Victor desperately wishes he hadn’t. It feels like every inch of him is begging for Ethan’s hands to move lower again, to touch him. But, but he –

“What’re you afraid of?” presses Ethan. “It’ll feel good, I promise.”

Victor struggles to take a deep breath, his heartbeat racing. “I’m _afraid_ it will feel good,” he says finally, squeezing his eyes closed. “I don’t want a new –“ _addiction_ “– appetite to sate. And I won’t be able to, so I’ll just be distracted, and frustrated, and –“

“That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard,” says Ethan wholeheartedly. Victor stiffens, but Ethan keeps talking. “First of all, even I’m not good enough that you’ll pine away if you don’t get any more. And anyway, you don’t have to go back to being a monk after this, you know.”

“I’m not a monk!” says Victor, flustered.

“Prove it,” says Ethan against Victor’s ear.

And Victor was planning to argue, to explain why this isn’t a good idea, but all of that disappears at the feeling of Ethan’s warm breath tingling in his ear. Shivers are running through his body at Ethan’s touch, his proximity, and there’s nothing Victor’s body wants more than to give in.

He remembers the threat of the witch, and he thinks about Ethan teaching him to shoot, confident and patient. He remembers nights spent pacing, frustrated, trying to turn his mind away from an accidental touch or a suggestive comment, until he finally gave in to a drug-induced peace.

Drawing in a deep, shaky breath, he steps away from Ethan and walks towards the small bed in the corner of his room. With a satisfied noise, Ethan follows.

Victor hesitates at the edge of the bed. Ethan asks lightly, “Well, doctor, do you want to go straight to the main attraction?”

“Yes,” says Victor firmly. _Best to get it over with_ , he thinks, and tries not to focus on the way his mind has been circling the thought of Ethan inside him, eager to know what it’s like.

“Lie down on your belly, then,” says Ethan, and Victor does. Lies down, face in the pillow, and tries not to shiver as Ethan climbs on after and settles between Victor’s knees.

“Try to relax,” says Ethan quietly. And then his hands are on Victor again. They trace his spine, rub circles on his back for a moment. Then they slide down the small of his back and curl over his ass. Victor squirms, half wanting to pull away, half wanting to push up into the warm pressure of Ethan’s hands. Ethan’s touch is almost relaxing, and probably would be if Victor could stop thinking about what’s coming.

Then Ethan’s fingers trace the line where his ass meets his thighs, and Victor yelps and jerks away.

“Ticklish, Doctor F.?” says Ethan, and Victor can hear the grin in his voice.

Ethan’s hands tease the back of Victor’s thighs again and Victor twitches helplessly against the bed, gasping out a laugh.

“Don’t,” he manages. It comes out high and petulant, as if he needs another indignity. He feels a blush spread over his cheeks, pushes his face into the pillow.

“Sorry,” says Ethan, obviously still pleased with himself. “I just thought it would be nice if you loosened up.”

“You have a childish idea of what’s ‘nice’.”

“You, doctor, have a childish tone to your voice,” responds Ethan smugly, and before Victor can respond Ethan puts his hand between Victor’s legs and tickles his inner thighs.

That’s even worse, and Victor gasps and pulls his legs apart. With a satisfied noise, Ethan plants his hands on Victor’s thighs, fingers curving over the back of them, thumbs reaching in, spreading the cheeks of Victor’s ass.

Victor gasps, exposed. He can feel Ethan’s eyes on him in addition to his hands, and a thrill runs through Victor’s body. It’s humiliating and delicious at the same time, and Victor doesn’t know what to do, tries to cling to his indignance.

“What was the point of that ploy, exactly?” he asks. “If you had asked I –“ _I would have spread my legs for you_ , he finishes in his head, and the sexual edge to the words sends a new rush through him, bursting in his blood. _Spread my legs for you_ , his mind echoes, and can’t stop his legs from spreading further, his hips from tilting up towards Ethan.

“I know, darlin’, I was just teasing you,” says Ethan, reassurance in the warm roll of his voice. But his hands keep squeezing, rubbing over Victor’s ass and thighs, and Victor can’t seem to catch his breath.

Victor presses his face into the pillow, scavenges for a coherent thought, can’t seem to think about anything but the way Ethan’s thumbs are circling gently on his ass, pushing in perilously close to his asshole but never quite touching it.

Despite all of that, it’s still unexpected when it comes, Ethan’s thumb reaching in to rub firmly over his asshole. His whole body shudders at it, so much feeling from such a small area, and it feels momentous and inconsequential at once. Momentous because he can’t remember anyone ever touching him there, and inconsequential because his mind instantly goes to other things, Ethan’s cock, and he knows this is only a taste.

Then Ethan’s thumb moves aside, and he’s back to the same teasing circles. And Victor’s mind is still stuttering over the thought of Ethan’s cock on him, in him. He barely notices the wet noise of Ethan’s mouth until he feels a glob of wetness land directly on his entrance.

“Did you just spit on me?” gasps Victor.

“Yep.”

Which is _disgusting_ , thinks Victor.

Except for a hidden part of him, which desperately wants it. He wants Ethan’s spit, in his ass and all over his skin and in his mouth, and Ethan’s semen too, everywhere. He’s helpless at the thought, can only roll his hips against the bed and moan into the pillow.

“What are you thinking about, darlin’?” asks Ethan, and then he runs a thumb slick over Victor’s asshole and it’s a moment before Victor can answer.

Victor’s voice is shaky, but he’s frank. “You ejaculating inside me.”

“Oh fuck, sweetheart, I’m gonna,” says Ethan. Victor makes a noise of agreement, hips twitching as Ethan’s thumb rubs against him. “Unless you keep on looking this gorgeous,” continues Ethan. “Then I might accidentally finish before I even get in you, might just come on your sweet little ass.”

He squeezes Victor’s asscheek with his other hand, and Victor moans wordlessly again. His mind can’t even decide what it wants. Ethan’s come splattering on his skin, dripping onto the backs of his thighs. Or Ethan’s come _in him_ , a thought so incomprehensibly hot that it almost hurts to think of it directly.

He pushes away the tangle of images, says doggedly, “You need to penetrate me.”

“I know, hold your horses,” says Ethan. He leans forward over Victor and puts a hand in his hair, uses it to coax his head to the side. Victor turns his head, the air cool on his heated face compared to the pillow, and Ethan pushes two fingers against Victor’s lips. “Open up.”

Victor opens his mouth, because he guesses what Ethan’s planning, but mostly because he wants as much of Ethan in him as possible. Immediately Ethan pushes both fingers into his mouth, all the way back until they’re heavy on Victor’s tongue. Victor almost gags but that’s good, will trigger a rush of saliva, he wants as much spit on Ethan’s fingers as he can. Doesn’t stop to think about that, just curls his tongue around and between Ethan’s fingers, wetting them, tasting gunpowder and dirt and skin and not caring. Moans around them a little too because it feels good, mouth full and busy, like getting kissed but different too.

“Jesus H. Christ, doctor,” says Ethan. “Please suck my cock.”

Victor doesn’t think he can say anything coherent, just nods against the pillow, eyes closed.

“Not – not now,” pants Ethan. “Fuck.” Victor hears him take a shaky breath. “Okay – okay, let’s get this show on the road.”

Obediently Victor opens his mouth. Ethan pulls out his fingers, slick and dripping, and sits back on his heels.

Victor can’t breathe with anticipation, can’t think, which is fine because Ethan doesn’t give him much time to think anyway. He just holds Victor’s hip in one hand and then slides a finger into him, slowly but inexorably, until he’s deep inside.

Victor really wants this, but it feels strange, it hurts, and he’s trying to cling to the images in his head but it _hurts_.

“Sweetheart, it’s okay, just relax,” Ethan is saying, petting Victor’s side like he’s a startled animal.

Victor takes a deep breath. Pushes through the frantic beating of his heart and focuses on his muscles around Ethan, tense and pulsing. Carefully he forces himself to relax.

Ethan moves a little inside him, sliding in and out. It still feels strange. Counter-natural.

And Victor loves it.

There’s a thrill to it, the transgression. Subverting nature’s intentions, for their own twisted pleasure.

“More,” he says hoarsely and hears Ethan chuckle from behind him.

Ethan presses another finger in. The spit helps get it in, but two fingers together still feel like a lot. Victor lets out a low whine as he tries to breathe through it, tries to open to them, and slowly manages it.

“Yeah, that’s it,” says Ethan breathlessly. “You’re doin’ so good, doctor, damn.” And Victor shouldn’t feel a rush of pleasure at those words, shouldn’t _want_ to be good at this. But he does. He presses his heated face into the pillow, pleased at Ethan’s approval and embarrassed by his own reaction.

Victor can hear the smile in Ethan voice, the purposeful way he growls, “I was always looking forward to fucking your sweet little ass, darlin’, but I wasn’t expecting you to be this _good_. This eager for me.” That’s a whole different rush, pushing a moan out of Victor’s mouth, rolling his hips back, onto Ethan’s fingers. _I’m eager for you, I’m yours._ The words fizz hot through Victor’s veins. 

“Think you’re ready, doctor?” asks Ethan. “Because you’re making it pretty hard for me to wait.”

“Yes,” gasps Victor. And really he doesn’t know if he’s ready, isn’t sure if he’ll ever be. But he feels _empty_ when Ethan slips out his fingers, and all he can think about is how desperately he wants Ethan’s cock in him.

He hears wet sounds – Ethan’s mouth, Ethan’s hand slicking his cock with spit, and Victor gives himself up to the shudder that runs through him at the thought.

And then all of a sudden he can feel it, blunt pressure nudged up against him, Ethan’s _cock_.

“Darlin’,” breathes Ethan, “dearest doctor. You ready?”

“Yes,” says Victor firmly, even though his heart is almost pounding out of his chest.

And Ethan pushes into him, slowly but forcefully, and Victor grips white-knuckled at the sheets and doesn’t even try to stop the desperate sounds spilling from him as he lets Ethan in inch by inch, until Ethan’s as deep as he can go, holding himself still, braced over Victor’s body with both hands. 

Ethan’s presence feels uncomfortable but amazing, strange but _perfect_ , like this is what his body’s been waiting for all along. Like he was never meant to hunch over a book or stand over a workbench, but was meant to be here, splayed flat on a bed, with spit on the pillow and precome on the sheets, with Ethan Chandler’s cock inside him.

“You okay?” says Ethan, and even his voice thrums with a tense vibration, the held-in desire to move.

“Yes,” gasps out Victor.

“Yeah, I know, I knew you could take it,” pants Ethan. “You’re doing so – _unh_ – so good, fuck.”

And the wash of sweet, shameful pleasure at Ethan’s words barely even registers because Victor’s too distracted by the way Ethan moves as he says them. Pulls back and then pushes in, hard, and Victor can only moan at the feeling of it, of Ethan moving inside him.

“Ah, fuck, Victor,” says Ethan, almost in awe, and starts moving in earnest. Long grinding rolls of his hips, cock pushing into Victor in a steady rhythm. Victor loses the ability to think. Every part of him is focused on Ethan’s incessant thrusts, the delicious burn of pleasure. He finds himself with his mouth open, groaning helplessly into the pillow.

There’s no room for anything else, the world is him and Ethan and their unconscious synchronicity. They’re groaning in unison, moving in unison, Victor pushing up into each thrust. Victor imagines their hearts beating in unison, imagines them sharing a circulatory system, the blood that flushes his face and pounds in his ears moving to pulse the same rhythm in Ethan’s cock.

With a grunt Ethan presses his body even closer, sweat-slick skin sliding together, pushing Victor down into the bed with each thrust. The friction of the sheets feels good on Victor’s cock, and he automatically cants his hips into it.

And then all of a sudden Ethan hits something _perfect_ inside him, and there’s a bright burst of pleasure, spreading throughout his whole body, unlike anything Victor’s felt before. He cries out, hands fisting in the sheets.

Ethan’s hips jerk to a stop. “Y’okay?”

“Yes, please don’t stop,” gasps Victor.

“Oh,” says Ethan, pleased. And when he thrusts in, he gets the angle just right. White-hot pleasure explodes in Victor like an electric shock. And before Victor can recover Ethan does it again, and again.

“Is this good?” pants Ethan, and Victor can only hope that the embarrassingly loud noises he’s making suffice for an answer, because he can’t manage words.

Each time Ethan slams into him it feels like it’ll be too much, like he’s overflowing with pleasure. He recognizes the approach of orgasm but it’s also different, tension spreading everywhere in his body, so much stronger and better than he’s ever felt. And then it’s on him, and he had planned to say something, to check if maybe he should do something other than lie here trapped between Ethan and the bed, but it happens too suddenly, like slipping off a precipice. He can’t do anything but moan as he feels climax pulse through him, blindingly strong, like falling into oblivion, and he wonders if this is what it’s like to die.

He can hear Ethan cursing and saying his name, rhythm growing frantic, and then Ethan breaks off into a deep groan and the thought of Ethan coming inside him is enough to push one last wave of shuddering pleasure out of Victor, the dirtiness of it and the intimacy of it, like Ethan’s giving him everything it’s possible to give.

When it’s over they lie still for a moment, Ethan heavy on top of Victor, panting against the back of his neck. Then Ethan carefully pulls out and collapses on his side. He reaches out, tangles his hand in Victor’s hair, tries to get him to turn his head. “Doctor, you okay?”

Victor keeps his face pressed to the pillow, takes a deep breath, and tries to answer.

Coherent thought is slow to return, but when it does, the answer is no, he’s not okay. He’s sweaty, and sore, and sticky everywhere. His skin crawls at it. His eyes feel wet and he doesn’t know if it’s from the orgasm or from the prickling blush he can feel everywhere when he thinks about how much of a mess he is now, and how much of a fool he made of himself.

Rolling away from Ethan, he gets up and hobbles stiffly to the bathroom. Ethan calls after him, then gets up and follows him, finds him braced over the bathtub, watching the water start to pool at the bottom.

“Victor,” says Ethan, putting a hand on his shoulder.

Victor turns to face him, forces himself to stand up straight, keep his chin up, look Ethan in the eyes. Forces himself not to twitch at the slickness dripping down his thighs, drying on his belly. “Thank you for your help,” he says.

Ethan snorts. “Glad to be of service, though I kinda got the impression you enjoyed it.”

And thinking about it, thinking about enjoying it, only makes Victor’s heart beat harder against his ribs, makes the blush burn stronger. “I wasn’t myself,” he says forcefully.

Ethan looks into his eyes. “That _was_ you, Doctor Frankenstein."

Victor tries to look away, but Ethan catches his chin and holds him still. Victor doesn’t struggle, just stares angrily back at Ethan until Ethan kisses him.

At first Victor doesn’t open his mouth, but Ethan kisses hard, tongue insistent. Until finally Victor surrenders and lets his mouth fall open under Ethan’s, brings his tongue up to meet Ethan’s. They easily find the sweet rhythm they had before, and Victor can’t help but enjoy it, relish the strong warmth of Ethan’s tongue.

Finally Ethan pulls away, rubs Victor’s cheek with his thumb. Victor’s pulse is heightened, breath quicker than normal. He’s sore in some places and tingling in others. He can feel the echo of Ethan’s mouth on his.

And maybe this is what it’s like to be alive. To be in his body, to feel it, the good and the bad. And in his belly, a deep, satisfied ache he’s never felt before.

“Thank you,” says Victor quietly, earnestly, and Ethan looks at him and grins.


End file.
